


Sick Beats

by Sachete



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Meteorstuck, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 22:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6258268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sachete/pseuds/Sachete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Man, wouldn't a track made out of sneezing and coughing be cool? I'm sure there's some great base notes in a cough, you know, the coughs where the phlegm is real deep in your lungs and stuff and it hurts like hell, but damn, it turns the voice into some kinda multi-toned instrument.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Beats

“Don’t cough on me, you vessel of filth and contagious fluids.”

“Come on, man. I’m depending on you to sample these sick sounds so I can mix some literally sick beats when I get better.”

“Because it’ll be iro-”

“For the irony.” He nods, sage-like. “It’ll be awesome.”

“It’ll be the death of me.” I set down the mic he’d shoved my way. “You’ll get me sick in the process.”

“I don’t really think trolls can get human sick? This ain’t like smallpox and the Indians.”

“What are Indians?”

“Excuse me.” He holds up a hand, like he didn’t mean to offend. I don’t know who he’s offending, though. “Native Americans.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Sampling now, history lesson later. Point is, we’re totally different species and I probably can’t get you sick.”

“Operative word here being probably.”

“Proba-ah-blahh–”

His face screws up, his nose twitching and his mouth opening in a kind of orgasmic “oh, ah, oh” shape, and he lets out a huge sneeze that involves some voluntary vocal chordage just to accentuate how big it is and how much snot is flying into my breathing air. He snerks and wipes his face on the sleeve of his pajamas.

“Um. Ew.”

“You missed it!” he cries, almost throwing his hands in the air in dismay but then thinking better of it because even that seems like too much physical activity for him right now. “That was fucking majestic! I’ll never have another sneeze like that in my whole life. Thanks, Karkat.”

“You will,” I tell him, and I'm not really sure if I'm trying to be comforting or just getting him to shut up.

“You’re no fun. I’m just trying to make the best of this. At least record the snotty noises I make while I’m sleeping.”

“I’ll be too busy disinfecting everything you’ve touched within the past twenty-four hours so Rose doesn’t get sick with whatever this is.”

He groans and smacks his head on the table, then groans again but louder because he probably didn’t mean to hit the table quite that hard.

“Come on, Dave," I say, shaking his shoulder. "Time to go to bed.”

“Don’t wanna. Can’t walk.”

“Don’t be a wriggler. I know you can stand the fifty steps it takes to get to your room.”

“'snot fifty steps.”

“However much it is. You can walk.”

“No I can’t.”

“Well you’re not sleeping in the common room and getting everyone else sick.”

“How about I hang out in here just till Vriska comes in and then I can like throw a used Kleenex at her or something. Then I’ll go to bed.”

I open my mouth and close it again while I’m trying to think of a response. “Go to bed, Dave,” I finally settle upon. Dave smirks.

“Dude, you hesitated there.”

“I did not.”

“You totally did. We’re getting the spider bitch hellsa sick.”

“Go to bed, Dave.”

I can tell it pains him to roll his eyes at me. I'm almost flattered that he's exerting himself so much just to make his annoyance clear. “ _Fine_ , you poop.”

“Losing some of your fire there?”

“Shaddup.” He grimaces and heaves himself out of his chair, swaying on his feet too much for my comfort. “Wish we had some NyQuil… Where we goin’ again?”

“Your room.”

“'kay.”

He snerks a snotty breath through his nose and takes a few wobbly steps toward his room. I follow close behind, and the second he stumbles over a rivet jutting out of the floor I grab him by the arms to steady him.

“Dude, the fuck?”

“Be more careful.”

“I can walk by myself. You said so.”

“I can change my mind, can’t I? Walk slower. I don’t wanna get stuck with scraping your brains off the floor.”

“Okay, two reasons that ain’t accurate:" He brings up his hand to tick off fingers in a large looping movement like he's intoxicated. "One, I’m godtier. I’ll just come back. Falling over doesn’t seem too heroic or just. Two, the floor’s metal. Just wipe my brains up with a damp paper towel. Do a commercial for Brawny and shit.”

“I redact my previous statement about brain-scraping. You have no brains for me to scrape up.” He gives me the finger. “You must be feeling a lot better all of a sudden if you can talk so much.”

“Don’t pull that shit. You sound like the moms off the TV.”

“Shut your mouth; it spews viruses and bullshit.”

“Yes, mother.”

He shuts up, though. Even leans on me a little on the trek to his room, and I can feel his face in the crook of my neck, sweating and feverish. There’s something cherry-and-menthol-flavored on his breath. The meteor’s always pretty chilly, and I wonder if he has enough blankets when we arrive at his room.

“Thank you for the escort, o knight. I think I can manage from here.”

“Do you have water in your sylladex? What about an icepack? You’re hot.”

“Thanks, you too, babe.” Smack. Gentle smack, but smack. “Really, Kar, I’m fine. You’re being all weird mother hen all over me. Lemme suffer in silence.”

“Let _me_ take care of you for once.”

“Gay.”

“It’s not gay unless the balls touch.”

Dave tires to laugh but falls into a fit of coughing, the kind of shallow coughs that sit on top of the lungs and itch and don’t give a chance for breathing. I take the opportunity to lead him inside to his bed and make him lay down. “Where the _fuck_ did you hear that?” he finally manages after he recovers.

“Irrelevant. I don’t have balls, and neither do any members of my species.”

“ _Exactly_. Karkat, _why_ do you know that phrase?”

“Get under the covers. You don’t have water, do you? Here.”

“You amaze me every fucking day.” He accepts the water and takes a few tiny sips before capping the bottle and setting it on the squat metal filing cabinet he uses as a nightstand.

“Take your glasses off.”

“Yes, mother.” He puts them on the filing cabinet, too.

I lean back on my heels, watching him go about trying to find a comfortable position in the pillows and blankets. He doesn’t settle for a few minutes, always sneaking quick glances at me.

“Will you stop hovering? It’s weird. I’m fine, really. Just gotta sleep it off like you said.”

“Um.” I would, if I knew what to do with myself.

Dave seems to sense… whatever it is I’m feeling. He sinks into the mattress and pats the space beside him with a sigh. “Come here, you perfect caring boyfriend.”

“I’ll get sick.”

“I doubt it.”

I go over and sit on top of the covers. On the very edge. Kind of leaning away from him. He grabs my wrist and drags me down. His breathing’s gone heavy with the effort, loud and labored in the quiet room, and I still smell the cherry on his breath.

“Don’t be like that,” he whispers. “You practically carried me in here.”

“Get some rest.”

“Only if you stay with me.”

“Now you’re the one being weird.”

I hold him, though, smooth circles into his back. A nonchalant clear of the throat turns into another coughing fit, and I hold him through it, run my hand through his hair as he sits up to take a few more sips of water. He lays back down and notches his chin against my shoulder.

“You’re the best, Kar.”

“Hm.”

“Really. I mean it.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Yes, mother.”

The air circulation cycle kicks off, humming background noise I hadn’t noticed before suddenly gone and leaving behind suffocating silence. I shiver, and so does he. We’re still. I listen to him breathe. In, out, in, out. In. Out. In… Out… In…

His forehead burns under my lips.

“I love you. Get better.”

I fall asleep, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my [Tumblr.](http://sachete.tumblr.com)


End file.
